Religion

In an echoey hall, the inner decoration and space of similar concept to a cathedral, many people of the city are gathered at a slightly elevated entrance area that has divided changing stalls. In these stalls, they take off their clothing and neatly place those belongings inside personal wicker baskets. Then over their heads, either by themselves or with the assistance of family or partners, they fit into simple white robes like ones used in baptism that covers all the way down to their ankles. Lastly in their preparations, they take a cloth and tie it around their heads like a headband.

In one of the stalls is Aurdon, Garth, and Hiya, who’ve completed dressing up all except Aurdon, who stares at his headband cloth he needs to tie.

“Old… Naked… ugh….” He speaks quietly to himself, thinking that his new parents are treating him all too familial so soon and in the worst ways possible.

Then he looks to Garth and Hiya once they’ve finished. The way they carry themselves is very serious, as if they’re preparing for a test, and it builds his nerves.

Inhaling as deep as he can to come to ease, he remembers when his school would do team sports and tie on colored ribbons. He didn’t attend them whenever invited on a team, choosing to keep to the sidelines as much as possible. His friends would hound him for it. Their angry faces and voices can almost be heard at the back of his mind, but echo of the other participants drown it out.

He will never see them again, and it’s hard for him to accept, but the one thing he can do confidently in holding onto that memory, is tying on the white cloth.

“You didn’t quite do it right.” Garth hovers his hand towards him. “Do they not teach you how to properly set a blindfold in your world?”

Aurdon keeps his hand away. “Hands off! I prefer it this way…”

Garth creates a fist and shakes it. “Why you— “

Hiya shushes him and massages his shoulders, “Now hold on Garth my love. We’re at the lake, remember? Leave the boy be.”

Garth groans and readjusts his robe. “It will do I suppose. The ceremony is to commence soon anyways. Remember what I told you earlier? When you hear the speaker finish, you repeat—“

“In the only aura.” Aurdon finishes his sentence while rolling his eyes and picking his ear. “I’ve got this old man.”

“Your attitude isn’t worth the time to address anymore.” Garth shakes his head and picks up the their wicker basket, taking it with him out the door. “Come now.”

Outside the stall, the wicker baskets are being collected and stored by assistants in similar but dark green and black accented attire. One particular interaction catches Aurdon’s eye when he sees Brez handing over their basket and dressed in the white robe.

They meet eyes for a moment and she rushes over to greet him to his dismay.

“Aurdon! I didn’t know you’d be attending the lake today.” She treats their meeting as the most thrilling news she’s heard all day, hardly able to contain her jitters.

Aurdon stays conflicted on whether or not he should be happy or annoyed with her attention, resorting to averting his gaze to appear more like the latter. “The old man forced me once I brought it up this morning. You should’ve seen him spit out his tea when he realized he’d been skipping out because of his duties.”

“Oh, lady Hiya and your greatness Garth!” Her heart nearly stops at the realization. “I-In the only aura, It’s been a while since you l-last visited. I wasn’t expecting.”

“Ah, Brez, in the only aura good child!” Garth’s expression turns brighter. “It is with great displeasure that I haven’t been so, but I’ve been making up for it in servitude to the lake and this city, as you would know of course.”

“I-I wouldn’t doubt your loyalty to the mystique, your greatness, for you and lady Hiya are among the most embraced of us all.”

“Oh you are the loveliest of Feimo’s students.” Hiya pats her on the head.

“More than that. It’s rare to see children her age attend the lake's ceremonies so consistently. Someone like that will most definitely prosper in the mystique’s aura.” Garth adds with a level of proudness a father would, and Aurdon can’t stand to see it.

“You might as well adopt her.” Aurdon thinks with soured gaze.

A few onlookers muster the courage to speak to Garth, since Brez had demonstrated so. Then Brez takes the opportunity to reconnect with Aurdon, taking him by the hand.

“Are you ready to be embraced by the aura?” She tightens her grip with sparkles in her eyes.

“Uh… sure?” He tugs away, but she has him too tight, so he doesn’t bother again.

Then she comes to his side, still hand in hand, making him very uncomfortable. To top it all off, Hiya joins him at the other end, extending a hand for him to hold as well, which makes him skeptical.

“What’s the deal?” He hesitates to put his hand in hers.

“It’s the first step in entering the lake. Look around.” Hiya puts her other hand out to Garth, who takes it as well, assuring Aurdon that no funny business is taking place. So he puts his hand in hers as well.

After Garth, more citizens joined to fill out the chain, extending from wall-to-wall. They formed rows that faced parallel to the stairs ahead, and stepped forward into the vast and dark hall. At the bottom of the stairs, the room was flooded to knee height, and each row would step in together at a time.

The hall is a void of light, but the sloshing of water and the echo of voices reveal the emptiness to extend far in the distance.

Aurdon gulps down his wariness and tightens his grip. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Brez whispers while raising their held hands for a moment of affirmation.

Aurdon realizes he should be quiet and whispers back. “O-ok.”

They begin down into the darkness, one step at a time.

While everyone else is confident in their step, Aurdon is a bit delayed, preferring to feel out for the next step first, and when they reach the cold water at the bottom, it makes him shiver and twitch. Near the bottom, only slight shimmers from the candles and torches before them reflecting off ripples in the water or wet stone gave him any bearing. It was like walking into the ocean on a a cloudy night, but the waves were people moving with, ahead, and behind him.

The water seeps into his cloth robe and rides up his skin, making him feel like he’s naked in a cool breeze.

Then the sound of a wind chime rings at the far end, a guide that leads their blind journey.

After some time wading through the water, the marching forward comes to a halt by the sound of two hits of a large drum.

“Be held in her aura. Were it not for the song of the mystique.” A strong voice reads out to the people from the darkness ahead, with only a candlelight in their place, but it’s too far to make out. “Trulile, a father and herder of goat, through the ranges of these very hills, and under only the light of the moon, he followed her song. Then, by her grace, and in only her aura…”

“In the only aura.” They all echo following his silence.

“He settled there. At the top of a hill overlooking the land, a lake so pure and flourishing, he could drink from it by hand…”

“In the only aura.”

“Before sleeping that night, he looked to the light he saw in the water and spoke to her. ‘It cannot be mistaken,’ before stripping down to bathe in it.”

“In the only aura.”

The green robed assistants make their way down the middle part of the darkness with candle and chalices in hand. Between each row at a time, the people kneel before them, still hand in hand. The assistants pull each person’s blindfold as they pass, and then the blindfolded people bend back into the water submersing themselves up to the ear and chin.

When it’s Aurdon’s turn to sink into the water, he does so by mimicking the elegance everyone is showing. His robe becomes fully soaked, and his blindfold sucks in water till it creeps at his temple.

“It’s soothing.” Is Aurdon’s first thought. “This must be what it’s like in those depravation chamber things. I could get used to this…”

“To the song of birds. To the song of the wind. To the song of a baby goats. Day breaks again, a symphony orchestrated by the mystique and her aura.

“In the only aura.”

The release of chains clatter against stone, and wood boards roll up together to make way for light. Blinds that covered articulate and imposing windows, gave way for light into the void.

Aurdon winces at the light that leaks through his blindfold, a small glimpse at the spectacle that is the interior design. Though hard to make out, the walls are made of a lavish emerald green marble accented with white and gold trims. From the outside, he only assumed the place was the same slightly weathered limestone. Still, both were awe inspiring at first glance, but the interior takes the crown without a doubt.

“In its beauty and peace, Trulile became still.” The speaker continues, though with the cadence of his voice, it can be assumed the story is coming to an end. “He said to himself, ‘A full rest, my love at my side—Merilam, and my livestock need tending. I am complete. The word must be spread, for there’s no better embrace, than that of the only aura.’ Then he shed tears for her.”

“In the only aura.”

Those same assistants once again make their rounds through the rows, but with a different purpose. Chalice in hand, they scoop up water from below, and hold it up to the rays of light that shine down on them. After a brief pause, they hold the chalice to their heart, and then pour the water out, once on a person’s heart, and then on their blindfold. This action is repeats tirelessly until everyone has been poured on.

On Aurdon’s turn, the weight of the water flowing down over his heart makes him feel uneasy, and he sinks a little more beneath the waterline in preparation for the impact on his face, but nothing he does can prepare him, as he turns his head the moment the water splashes.

His unwillingness to take the brunt of the stream makes the assistant end his pour early, choosing to wait and even gather back the wasted water.

Once Aurdon refocuses forward, the assistant starts the pour again but a little faster, not giving him time to dodge.

Unlike him, everyone else’s pour goes by smoothly, which piles on the thought that he dishonored their ritual.

The speaker readies the final part of his speech, built up by all his assistants moving to him and singing. “Crossing any terrain…” Their song is broken apart by the ring of a bell on each pause. “Facing any abomination… Tight at the heart… Heavy in the mind… Sore at the Feet… The aura overcomes.”

Now gathered at the podium where the speaker stands, they huddle close with one arm over the other’s shoulder, besides the speaker, and one hand to the air with their chalice under the light.

“Rise, and embrace your brethren. Share the aura and your words of gratitude. Remember their faces, for our greatest duty in life, is our humanity.”

Everyone reorients themselves and stands, pulling away their blindfold and wrapping it around their hand.

Aurdon tries to follow, pulling the wet cloth around his hand tight. He looks to Brez for the next step, but she has already went ahead with it to the person on her other side, so he gets lost, now turning to Hiya.

“To the heart.” She brings her wrapped hand to the center of Aurdon’s chest. “You place it there, and then exchange greetings or kind words.”

“Oh.” Aurdon does the same in return, the cloths compressing against their chests and oozing water. “I feel like we’re just having a weird bath.”

She chuckles. “You can think of it like that, though it’s not just water we’re bathing in. Now, your hair, I find it lovely the way it falls down to your shoulders, and you have a strong will for someone in your place.”

He’s taken aback by the compliments, even if it’s customary. He feels bad not having something to say on the spot.

“You… have a good eye for those kinds of things, I guess? You also make a good tea.” Aurdon turns red and averts his gaze.

“You’re making me blush darling Aurdon. Thank you.” She takes her hand away and raises a pinkie to him, so he does too.

A light tap on his shoulder is felt and he turns, it’s Brez. Without skipping a beat, she places her hand on his chest, her focusing eyes burrowing into his. She’s waiting for him to do the same.

He couldn’t delay it, his hand burdened by an invisible weight as it slowly makes its way up and onto her chest.

"You're a little shaky. Is it cold?"

"Uh-huh... S-su—per cold."

"Then let's make this quick. I'll go first." Her eyes play about his face but ultimately return steady on his. "I'm Brez, the second eldest of Plice and Mierret's four born daughters. When I'm not at the lake or training under Feimo, I help take inventory on books at my family's store. You should come by some day."

"More introductions? Oh right, we're practically strangers." Aurdon stammers while grasping his fake backstory. "I'm Aurdon, from somewhere far away. For some reason I'm here now. I have an older sister, but I don't think we'll meet again..."

"For some reason?"

"I-I just don't want to talk about it!"

"You're right! My apologies."

He clears his throat. "I worked on a farm with my family, but I mostly stayed in and played video games."

"Ve-day-oh games? You must show me these games you play some day."

For a moment he covers his mouth with his other hand, letting it go only after his mistake sneaks by undetected. "It's just what I call—uh... swinging swords. Sticks though. We'd play fight."

"Play fighting. Video games."

"Video games. It's the name of the person who started it. Video."

"That's funny. If there's one thing I've noticed, it's that you must be someone special.”

Her words unsettle him, the adjacent truth both hidden and falling from her lips. "I wouldn't say that..."

"Take away the fact you're Garth's newest disciple, everything about you is still so strange. In all the people I’ve seen, not one has your eyes, the tone of your skin, or that shape of ear.” She brushes back the hair around it to have a brief look.

“Again, a far away place. It’s nothing special.” He jerks his head away.

“The aura is with you, most definitely. I feel it.”

“To me, that’s all superstition. This religion stuff isn’t my thing. Believe what you want though.”

“I’ll keep believing.” She seems desperate in those last words, a sorrowful tone brought out by a memory. “No matter what.”

To see someone so cheery just moments before turn uneasy at mental plight resonates with him. The ray of light cast around her bright hair and soaked robe, and the sparkle of the waters surface, it’s a tragedy to feel negativity amongst the beauty. Aurdon knows it’s not the time to stay quiet.

“I think… The way you are is incredibly important. Something like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Argh… Don’t make me think so hard about it.” He rocks his head back and palms his forehead, trying to smush in the details for a long time. “It’s the belief! Everybody needs a believer, someone who believes in them. You’re that person. The devotion to your belief is testament. The fact you believe I’m special is too. Someone like you, as Feimo once said, is admirable.”

For once, someone other than him gets flustered. He’s at first proud, but can’t find the confidence to hold on to that victory for long, taking his hand away from her chest and stepping back.

She brings both her hands to her chest and looks down at her reflection with a smile. “You have a special way with words too.”

“You two sure took your time!” Feimo barges in, apparently attending the lake as well to their surprise.

Aurdon takes the news to the extreme, falling over as if his heart stopped, and flailing about in the holy waters.

The sight brings out a hearty laugh from Feimo, some confused stares from other goers.

“I hadn’t noticed you were here too Feimo. I must’ve gotten carried away…”

“Such is the flow of the lake. It lulls you into a state of peace and connection like no other wonder of the world.” Then her face turns sour for another incoming remark. “Some perverted old bags and sleazy young men get a little too carried away in this place of worship all too often though… Blech…”

Aurdon stands back up, wiping away at his face and squeezing out the excess water of his robe. “Could you maybe make yourself known some other way?”

“Even now I’m testing your awareness, student.”

“Not everywhere is your class…”

“You’re greatly mistaken, and all my students can back that up.” She rubs the top of Brez’s head rapidly. “Isn’t that right?”

“I-I think poking a sword at me through the store bookshelves went a little too far…”

“You should’ve seen it coming.”

“It nearly stabbed my eye!”

Aurdon’s everyday fear has shot up to a new level. “No corner is going unchecked.” He notes to himself “hold on, where’s Garth and Hiya?”

Feimo points behind her to Garth and Hiya in the distance surrounded by followers and fans who want to have a word with them. “They’re a bit held up, but I plan to nab him away soon, there’s some matters that I need to discuss with him and the lake keepers.”

He holds and rubs his arm nervously. “Is it because of yesterday? I hope you’re not telling them about how I ran off like an idiot…”

“That incident concerns no one but myself and my responsibility.” She places a hand on his shoulder. “But those goblins you faced, something needs to be said.”

“If you say so.” He brushes her hand off.

***

Licking their finger and flipping through pages of a book, the speaker who’s voice once boomed through the building now keeps only but a murmur to himself. In his place, a podium and stage risen above the flooded ground below. The green robed assistants no longer stand by him, now tending to the ones who stay and those leaving. 

His solitude seems on purpose, some tension building as he studies the lines of his book, humming the words to a rhythm and wetting his throat at every stutter. Most importantly, for someone of his position, he looks young.

“Well done.” Garth speaks up to him, breaking his focus. “Your ceremony, your voice, the choice of story. Excellent work, young speaker of the lake, Bisom.”

“Garth, your greatness.” He quickly closes and puts aside his book. “I was not expecting your attendance. As for the performance, I’m still getting used to things, t-that story is the only one I know by heart.”

“It is the most important of them all. Your father is proud, I’m sure if it. May he find eternal rest in the aura’s embrace.”

“Thank you, Garth. Is Master Hiya with you today.”

“Yes, but she’s taking care of the boy.”

“Boy?” He nearly jumps from his podium. “Your greatness Garth, you never mentioned a child, and at your age?”

“You’ve got it wrong. Since the storm, I’ve adopted a child refugee.”

“I’ve known you two to be a charitable couple, this is one step I was not expecting.”

“Neither was I, but when I heard it, and when I saw him, it felt like a sign from the mystique herself.”

“You don’t say?” He leans in. “What do you mean heard?”

“That’s not important right now. Something has reared its ugly head, and I’d like Feimo to explain.”

When Feimo steps forth, again Bisom is taken aback, but in a shy and cowering way than astonished. "Feimo... I-I thought you didn't attend the lakes anymore."

"True, I've had quite the handful of kids recently."

"Y-you mean your students?" He braces himself on the podium, nearly falling to a misunderstanding.

"Why of course. Just the other day a boy of mine ran into goblins." She laughs, but it begins to weaken at the realization of what she said.

"What in her mystery?" Garth interjects loudly. "It could only be that damn boy Aurdon. How could he?"

"Let's not get loud here, your greatness Garth, I assure you it's all a stroke of bad luck."

"A-are you okay, Feimo...?" Bisom's heart is far too on display and fragile, his worried eyes, big and shiny.

"Did you forget who I am after all these years Bisom? I'm somewhat disappointed in you, and don't get me started on the invitations and letters I've sent." She pouts, an atypical display of feelings from her.

He hangs his head low as his heart is tugged. "I've been busy as of late too... But I assure you, your letters have been received and read thoroughly."

"Do write back. Please."

Garth erupts with disgust. "Stop getting all squirmy you two, I've heard enough about it from your master. Feimo, about those goblins, please."

She clears her throat. "Yes, your greatness.  From what Aurd—AHEM... From what we gathered in the confrontation, the goblins are collecting slimes and sneaking away with cartfuls. We've only seen one case, but with the severe lack of slimes in our area, I can only assume it's a coordinated smuggle operation."

"Curious..." Bisom ponders his own theories. "A ritual? Some form of potion brewing? Maybe even creating an army?"

"An army of slimes? Cunning creatures those goblins, but they'd be woefully underestimating our strength." Says Garth. "You'd also need one powerful mind to command so many."

"That's why I think it's more than the work of mere goblins. There's someone behind the scenes. Orks, Demons, maybe even one of our own is conniving." Feimo looks to the people still conversing about the building.

"That's only if the army theory is true. They can still work together without a commanding force."

Bisom paces about the stage in thought, then stops at the podium with his decision. "I'll speak to the council on having city guards investigate the nearest rivers and streams."

"Good call." Garth fiddles with his mustache. "I'll see to my subordinates on contingency plans."

"Feimo, I'd prefer if you keep the training within city walls."

"That'll get them nowhere and you know it." Feimo flexes her arm, showing taut and exemplary muscular form. "Lady Hiya would say the same, the kill is how we hone our capabilities most efficiently."

"I know... B-but."

"Not another word. My students will continue to train properly."

"Defying the speaker is quite bold of you." Garth smirks.

"He's new and needs to build a spine, and how I train my students isn't something in his line of work anymore." She glares back at Bisom, and he gulps. "You're doing great otherwise, Bisom, I believe you have what it takes."

"T-thank you, Feimo."

She breaks away towards Hiya, and Garth stays behind.

"Speaker Bisom."

Bisom is caught in the middle of relaxing, thinking they had both left. "Yes, your greatness Garth?" He nearly drops his book to the ground. "What is it?"

"I have one last thing to discuss."

"And that is?"

"What I heard that day, when the boy came to me..."